Against a Tombstone
by pladskrtgrl
Summary: Spike and Buffy run into each other in a graveyard. Post-season seven. Disregards canon season eight and nine comics. M for language.


Disregards canon of the Season Eight and Nine Comics.

"Spike."

She stood before him confused, a little older, a little happier, a little bit about to have her head ripped off by a charging vamp. Before she could ask what he was doing, Spike let loose his fangs and leaped over her onto the oncoming beasty. They tumbled over and over amongst the headstones, the vamp sinking his fangs into Spike as he fumbled for a stake.

"Spike!" Buffy yelled. Instinctively he reached his hand into the air and the stake she had sent flying landed there. With a quick downward motion he finished off the vamp who exploded into a cloud of dust.

Kneeling amid the pile of debris, Spike dusted off his coat and looked up at Buffy. "Thanks for the help, pet, but careful where you're throwing those darties. Wouldn't want one arriving here prematurely," he said, tapping his chest over his black t-shirt.

"You know my aim is good enough that I'd hit you if I wanted to," she said in a huff.

Spike rose from the pile of dust, relaxing his features to his normal face. "That's precisely what I'm afraid of."

The moon was full overhead. It lit her light jacket and jeans, shining on her pony tail. He could see that her muscles were tense beneath her clothes. She gripped another stake, but he wasn't sure it was in general sense of wariness or about him. Dogs howled in the distance-no, probably werewolves wherever Buffy was. Trouble just followed her. She stood facing him and he had no idea what to say. There was so much he wished he could say and yet there wasn't anything at the same time. He just wanted to see her face, something he had missed for years since she had run out of the cavern under Sunnydale High. Sure, he had caught sight of her once with Angel in Italy, but that was nothing compared to this, this private meeting beneath moonlight in a graveyard. Feeling just like they had so long ago when they were out on patrols alone, when they might end up tumbled against one of the larger headstones...

"Thanks," she said, awkwardly gesturing toward the pile of dust, "for the vamp killingness."

"Anytime, swee'heart," Spike said. It was too tense just staring at her now. He dug in the pocket of his coat, fishing out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. He beat a cigarette out against his palm, placed it between his lips, and flipped the lighter open.

"Some of us do not have immortal lungs, you know," said Buffy,

"Doubtful a little secondhand smoke will do you in after all you've survived."

Buffy quirked an eyebrow.

"Well if it means that much to you..." Spike snapped the lighter shut and replaced the cigarette in the pack.

Again they watched each other, only moonlight filling the space between them.

"How's the soul treating you?" Buffy asked abruptly, as she began to circle around a nearby tombstone.

"Comfy. Fits like a nicely worn-in jumper now." Spike mirrored her motions, circling the tombstone along with her, leaving a diameter of six feet and a block of stone between them.

"What are you doing here?"

"Investigating a minor matter-nothing to be concerned about."

"Something illegal?"

Spike scoffed.

"Something immoral?"

"Slaaaaayer," Spike said, drawing out the word in exasperation.

Buffy stopped her circling. "You haven't called me that...in a long time."

Spike continued circling until he stood before her. "An apt description still though, is it not? You may no longer be unique but you are a slayer, correct?"

Buffy swallowed and leaned back against the tombstone. "Last I checked." She slid the stake into the inside pocket of her jacket. Spike took it as a welcoming gesture and stepped forward.

"You didn't visit me in L.A."

"I though you were dead-"

"For a bit maybe-"

"I was scared-"

"Of me?"

"Of me!"

"I take that as an insult. Clearly I am the more terrifying party in this conversation," Spike said letting loose his fangs again.

Buffy looked away at the ground, but he caught the corner of a smile on his mouth and shoot off his vamp face.

"Why so quiet, pet?"

Buffy raised her face, meeting his eyes. She had that defiant look on, the one she met all great evils with, but which he had never been able to keep from finding slightly comedic on one so small.

"I told you I loved you."

"I recall."

"I meant it when I said it."

"And you don't now?"

"I...don't know what I mean now. You were dead. I let you go."

"Is there someone else?"

"There has been...have been. Several someones."

"Angel?"

Buffy looked away for a moment. "Is that the worst you can imagine? I could sleep with the whole world but it would only bother you if Angel was involved?"

"We've got a bit of tiff going about women if you haven't noticed. He tends to snake me."

Buffy looked back with her eyebrows raised again.

"Poor choice of words. But you did love me. When you said it?"

"Yes." Buffy's face contracted with pain and her sincerity was evident. "When I said it I was all feelings-having."

Spike looked out across the cemetary and up at the moon. In all of his life there had been so few moments when he was certain that someone had cared for him. And since having his soul returned there had been so few moments when he had even wanted to be loved. To know that Buffy loved him, even if only in the past, was enough.

"Love complicates things. Better to just fuck, I always say."

Buffy laughed. "I've never heard you say that."

"Well I've been thinking it."

"You might have a point there."

"What do you say? For old time's sake?"

"Do you still love me?"

"I told you. I will always love you, Buffy. But I don't expect anything more than a good time from you. A little graveyard twist reminiscing," Spike said, grinning. He advanced a step. "You and me, that's about the only thing we ever got right, pet."

Buffy nodded smiling. "Yeah, it is." She watched him for a moment then began to pull off her jacket, dropping the stake with it to the ground, leaving herself weaponless against him. Trusting him.

Spike crossed the space between them, lifting her and pressing her into the tall side of the stone. Her hands wrapped around his neck, the tips of her nails scratching through the short bleached hairs just above his neck. Howls came again. Damned werewolves.

"Better make it quick-looks like I'll have some slaying to get to soon."

Spike thrust his hips against her. "We'll have some slaying to get to. Continuing the memory lane portion of the evening."

Buffy arched her chest against his, pushing his coat off his shoulders. "Wouldn't rather have anyone else beside me..."

Her face was above his, and he looked up into her eyes for a moment before moving. Yes, her love was in the past. But this was enough. Fucking, slaying, witty repartee. Buffy.

Fin.


End file.
